


Arsonist's lullaby

by snowspriestess



Series: One Shots [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, R'hllor - Freeform, Rituals, praying, show canon, somewhere season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 21:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11700105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowspriestess/pseuds/snowspriestess
Summary: Melisandre attends her rituals, and Jon wonders if he really does know nothing.





	Arsonist's lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> my last life I was  
> burned at the pyre I’m sure;  
> I can tell from the way  
> fire speaks to me -
> 
> it speaks of pain  
> and of grief;  
> of loss and of -   
> salvation and relief.
> 
> \- a.CLAW [(credit)](http://eliamvrtell.tumblr.com/post/155507085246/my-last-life-i-was-burned-at-the-pyre-im-sure)

  
The days were growing shorter, the snow was falling heavier and cold winds rose with such a fury that in most nights, the brothers of the nights watch were not able to man the wall unless they had the wish to freeze to death. _The long night was coming, and the dead were coming with it._  
  
The quiet cracking of fire was filling the air as the flames crept upon the wood and slowly turned it to ash. The cold of the evening was filled with a soft heat for a moment, before the winds rose once more and brought back the cold.   
  
The white snow was rasping under Melisandre's feet as she stepped upon the wood onto the stake, red dress and red hair blending in with the scarlet of the flames now slowly creeping around her. The smell of smoke filled the air.

  
Jon watched the whole procedure happen from afar, since she had not agreed for him to stand any closer. Honestly, he did not like her standing amidst the stake like this at all, but of course she had not listened to his concerns. she never did.   
  
And so he had watched her build the big pyre, creating three circles of wood drowned in lamp oil to make it burn more easily.   
  
Now, she was standing behind the first ring, watching the flames unfold around her with a strange kind of admiration, almost. He had always wondered where she had gotten that from, that fascination with fire. She always needed at least a candle near her to draw strength from it.   
  
"What is she doing?" a voice suddenly asked, next to him. His sister had stepped out of the castle, eyes now following the priestess as well. "What is she burning?" Sansa frowned. "Not a person, I hope"  
  
Jon shook his head. No, he would have no more burnings. Mance had been enough. "She's not burning anything", he replied. "She is just praying." Whatever that meant, for her. He watched Melisandre step into the second circle, the burning torch lowered to the ground so that the second line of wood would catch fire. The fire had risen high into the sky by now, smoke and flames covering his view. He felt himself grow more nervous, knowing her to be just in the middle of the stake. He never should have agreed to this stupidity.  
  
"What is she praying for?" Sansa now asked, still watching the ritual. "She is singing, right? But I don't know the language."  
  
Neither did he, unfortunately. He was believing it to be High Valyrian, but it might just as well have been the language of Asshai. What was she praying for? "An end of winter", he answered. _The success of her champion, maybe. The victory of her Lord. The return of the dawn._ Never could he be sure. Not with her. She never talked about her prayers. All she talked about were prophecies and riddles in the fire.  
  
"She has a beautiful voice", his sister observed, listening to the tunes which filled the silence of the castle. "I wish I knew what she said."   
  
Jon wished that too. But Melisandre liked keeping her secrets, and she even more liked to leave him in the dark. She talked of victory and glory for her lords champion, but dreamed of death and destruction, even so much she feared to close her eyes. The fires showed her more than she liked to say to him, only ever smiling when he asked her of the future. Perhaps it was so terrible she did not even dare to say it out loud, in fear it might the visions come true.   
  
_You know nothing, Jon Snow,_ she had once said to him, and perhaps she had been right.


End file.
